


All work and no play

by Tashilover



Series: Claw and dagger [4]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: AU, Dragons, M/M, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-09
Updated: 2013-11-28
Packaged: 2017-12-28 22:11:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 9,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/997517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tashilover/pseuds/Tashilover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A spouse comes with certain obligations.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Not really part of he Claw and Dagger series, merely wanting to write some smut based off in that AU.
> 
>  
> 
> Ya happy, branwyn? Ya happy??

There was something about King Crieff Douglas like immensely. He was a middle-aged man, deaf in one ear, no hair, and had a bit of limp. It was almost a pathetic sight because he looked ten years older than he was. If Douglas didn't know better, he would say the king was only a few years from death.

But it was because of those little faults Douglas liked him so much. This man has seen things, done things, lived a life worth living. His experiences showed on his body, unlike other monarchs whose hands were as dainty as a baby's behind. There was something untrustworthy about a man who has never worked a day in his life.

Douglas preferred to handle negotiations in his dragon form. It was a great way to keep men from trying to undermine him if his mere presence was constantly reminding them he could eat them at any time. With King Crieff however, Douglas decided to take the risk.

"I can't tell you how glad I am to see you can shift into a human," his highness breathed in relief as he looked Douglas over. "I... it'll put a few of my fears to rest."

Douglas merely hummed. He wanted to grin and reveal his pointed teeth to remind Crieff  not to underestimate him in human form but resisted. The whole point here was to build trust between them. "How is my betrothed?" Douglas asked. "Did he enjoy the birthday gift I sent him?"

"Very much so, Dragon. It is not often he gets gifts of the magical sort."

A month ago on Martin's nineteenth birthday, Douglas had sent an exotic bird from across the seas. According to sources, the bird was not magical, simply unique. "Where is he? I was hoping to see him on this trip."

"He's with his instructors."

"Ah. Language lessons? Fencing?"

"Duties of a spouse."

 _Duties of a spouse_  had various lessons attached to it. There was cooking, cleaning, handling finances, children and other household duties. But for a monarch like Martin, who had wet maids, servants and butlers to do those things, his lessons will primarily focus on satisfying his partner in bed.

Douglas acknowledged this nonchalantly and then changed the subject. It was the polite thing to do.

 

 

 

 

Martin stared down at the dildo. "This is stone."

"Yes, of course it is," Monk Duncan said. "What else could we make it out of?"

"Yes, but..." Martin poked at the phallic shaped thing. It swayed from side to side, making a hard noise against the wooden table. "It's not actually going to be like this, is it? Dragon penises, I mean."

All the monks shifted uncomfortably. "We don't know," Monk Duncan finally admitted. "But it's highly unlikely, your majesty. Dragons have taken spouses before and many of them lived for many years. If they can handle it, so can you."

Martin grimaced. 'Many of them lived'? So did that mean some of them  _died_?

"Start practicing, your highness."

Martin picked up the hard, cold, stone dildo, trying to ignore how supid this was. He held it in the way the monks told him to, one hand at the base while the other held the shaft, tightened his jaw for a second, then leaned forward and licked a long line from balls to the head.

The dildo was made expertly, the stone cut so well Martin barely felt any bumps. It was smooth against his tongue and Martin couldn't help but wonder who the hell took the time to cut the stone in such a way.

The monks stared in silence as Martin dragged his tongue across the toy. None of them were hard, thank God, but it was unnerving to say the least. Martin knew they scrutinizing his every lick, his hand positions, and the sounds he made. After a minute, Martin closed his eyes, too embarrassed to look.

"That's enough licking, your highness. Now suckle on it."

Martin took the dildo into his mouth, nearly flinching when he realized the head was much bigger than he anticipated. The stone clanked against his teeth.

" _Don't bite_."

Martin opened his mouth wider. He tried his best to remember to suckle, lick, and rub the dildo across the roof of his mouth. When the monks told him to take it deeper, he started gagging and tears leaked out of his eyes.

"Try not to look  _so_  miserable, your majesty..."

Martin carried on, licking and sucking as best he could and wishing a hole could just open up and swallow him.


	2. Chapter 2

Curiosity got the best of him. They were going to be married before the year was out and Douglas has waited longer for his spouses, but the minute the King had mentioned Martin was training, Douglas couldn't think of anything else.

Seeking out the monks were easy enough. They always wore those stupid long brown robes and the scent of old books surrounded them like flies. Douglas purposely left his wings out to let them know who he was. The moment they spotted him, their eyes grew wide and all four dropped to their knees.

"Dragon," they said respectively, bowing their heads. "It is an honour and a privilege."

Douglas rattled his wings. "The honour is all mine. I understand that you four are Martin's instructors?"

They stood back up. The leader of the group took a step forward, folded his arms inside the sleeves of his robe and said, "Yes, we are."

"How is Martin in these lessons? Will I be pleasantly surprised?"

He expected the monks to all agree enthusiastically. He expected them to bow and scrape and over emphasize Martin's skill. Best to oversell Martin's skills in case if Douglas had second thoughts. What he didn't expect were for all four of them to share worried looks, frown, and shrug.

"He's... adequate," said one of the monks.

Douglas blinked. "Adequate?"

"Do not worry, Dragon. By the time of your wedding night, Prince Martin will be able to satisfy your needs. He understands his duty."

Now what the hell was that suppose to mean? Instead of having the mental image of Martin on his back, gasping in pleasure, his legs trembling as sweat poured down his chest, Douglas had nothing. His mind was blank.

Now that won't do. "May I sit in on the next lesson? I have never been privy to one before and I am curious."

The monks shared another uneasy look. It wasn't a good idea, Douglas knew. If Douglas saw something he might not like, like a physical defect or simply found Martin gross, he could call off the marriage. Except Douglas had no plans of calling off this marriage. He wanted that saltpeter as much as the king wanted protection.

"Please?" Douglas added, smiling widely to show off his fangs. His very sharp, nearly translucent fangs. "It would make me so... very happy."

 

 

 

 

"Who's he?"

Martin motioned to Douglas with his head. Douglas wore one of the monk's robes with the hood pulled over to obscure his face. The monks had agreed that Douglas could be witness to the lesson, but he cannot let Martin know who he was. Otherwise, they said, it could make the Prince uneasy and self-conscious.

"He's an apprentice," Monk Duncan said sharply, giving no room for argument. "He'll merely observe, he won't add to the lesson."

Martin didn't look too happy about it. "I don't feel-"

"Today's lesson," one of the other monks cut in. "Is endurance. Take off your clothes, your highness."

Douglas nearly growled at the monks and their harsh voices. Sex was suppose to be fun and they were turning it into... well, a goddamn school lesson. How can anyone expect to have a good time with these old farts leading the way?

Before taking off his clothes, Martin turned his back on the monks. He stripped off his tunic, his inner shirt, folding them nicely and placing them on a nearby table. He stripped off his belt and slid off his boots.

When his hands came to the hooks on his trousers, he hesitated.

"Today, your majesty..." One of the monks chastised lightly.

Martin took off his trousers and quickly slid off his undergarments. He turned and Douglas held his breath.

The boy was built. Like his father, Martin did not spend all his time lounging around, expecting others to do things for him. He had scars on him, a few stretch marks, and a rather large birth mark on his hip. He was still so very young, though. His chest was hairless, and despite the muscles on his arms and legs, he was very thin. Surprisingly he was circumcised though the practice of it was not common on this side of the land.

Douglas couldn't help but be aroused by the sight. Martin was indeed a beautiful young man.

The monks motioned to Martin to sit down and he did, flinching lightly from the cold seat.

"Today's objective," began Monk Duncan. "You are to arouse yourself. But do not orgasm, your highness. The moment you feel you are near, you are to take your hand away. By keeping yourself from orgasm, your endurance will lengthen."

Martin made a face. "Will the dragon even care if I come or not?"

Douglas felt mildly insulted. Of course he cared! He always made sure his past spouses had as much fun as he did.

Duncan didn't even bother to answer that. "Begin."

Martin sighed, shimmied down the chair for a more comfortable position and grasped his cock, giving it a few tugs. He purposely leaned his head back so he wouldn't have to see the monks watching him.

Nobody spoke. The only noise they could hear was Martin's breathing, soft and even. His hand kept moving, up and down, up and down, up and down, for nearly a full minute. Douglas knew the moment Martin's cock finally began to respond when his breathing suddenly hitched.

He paused, then kept going.

His cock lengthen and harden as a deep flush erupted over Martin's chest. His hand got faster, sometimes dragging the palm across the head of his cock, spreading the small fluid that leaked from his slit.

Douglas leaned forward, mentally urging him on. Come on... come on... Martin was biting his bottom lip, jaunting his hips just so and-

"Take your hand away, your majesty."

Martin wrenched his hand away. He grabbed the edges of the chair, gritting his teeth while his cock jerked uselessly. Douglas nearly groaned when he saw Martin's balls tighten against him.

After a few seconds, when Martin's breathing calmed, the monks told him he could resume again. Martin grasped his cock again and stroked, his little gasps a bit more audible now.

The colour of his cock started out as a pretty pink, then shifted into a deep red, and now it was nearly purple with blood. It looked painful.

By the time the monks told Martin to take his hand away for the third time, Douglas swore he could feel it in his own guts. Frustrated tears were leaking at the edges of Martin's eyes, and he was pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead like he was in pain. He was gasping, almost hyperventilating.

Finally, Douglas had enough. "You can finish now if you want to."

The other monks jerked, their mouth dropping in surprise. Douglas flashed his golden eyes at them, then turned back to Martin. "You can finish-"

"Can I stop?" Martin nearly heaved. "I don't... I don't want to finish, I just want to stop."

The frustration in his voice killed any leftover arousal Douglas may have had. Douglas came to these lessons expecting to have an early show of his lovely young prince, a sweet memory to keep him warm till their wedding night. He didn't expect this.

"Yes," he gulped. "You're done for today."

Martin didn't even bother to wait till his cock softened. He threw back on his clothes, shoved his still-hard cock back into his trousers and stalked out of the room, hunching over in misery.


	3. Chapter 3

Douglas didn't want a miserable spouse.

He had a few of those in his life. No matter how kind he was, no matter how careful or accommodating he tried to be, they wanted nothing to do with him. It was horrible to watch this amazing young man or woman cry every single night, look upon him with despair or disgust. He couldn't talk to them, couldn't engage them in simple pleasures of marriage life. He would divorce them as soon as he was legally able to, wanting them to have a happy life without him. Douglas had no idea if he could keep Martin from getting to that point, but he damn well was going to try.

Martin's room was what Douglas expected out of a nineteen year old Prince. It was large and spacious, covered in decorations of gold and purple. There was a large wardrobe full of clothes, a table dedicated only to jewelry, another table to quills, parchment and ink, there was a wall full of books, and a few swords and bits of armour were off in a corner.

Hanging off the walls there were quite a few paintings of dragons, all in depicted in flight, their wings outstretched and wide. Douglas wondered if Martin always had those, or if his father put them up after the marriage was announced.

Next to Martin's bed sat a birdcage. Douglas came close and was pleasantly surprised to see it was the bird he had to sent to Martin for his birthday.

The door to the room opened and Douglas stepped back. Martin walked in, saw him, and immediately scowled. "What are you doing here?" He demanded hotly. "The monks are not allowed in my room. I don't care if you're new-"

"You're not feeding him correctly."

Martin jerked. "What?"

"The bird," Douglas said, indicating to the cage. "I see you have several alternatives inside. Watered honey, sugar water-"

"I know I'm not," Martin snapped at him, walking forward. "The instructions the dragon gave were to give the bird flower nectar, but as you can see, it's now Autumn. Flowers are scarce. I had to find alternatives."

"I see. Unfortunately the bird won't last long on these. I can show you instructions on how to mix the perfect combination to feed him."

Martin pursed his lips, now unsure if to follow through on throwing Douglas out of his room or continue the conversation. With a slight reluctance to his voice, he asked, "How do you know so much about this bird?"

"I spent some time overseas," Douglas said, resisting the urge to smile triumphantly. "Did you know these birds can beat their wings eighty times a second?"

"I've suspected," said Martin. He dropped some of the defensiveness in his voice and stance. He came closer to the cage to look at the little bird, sitting in its nest. "Everyone in my family thinks the bird is magic. I am the only one who thought the bird was merely flying at incredible speeds. I tried to do some calculations..."

"Calculations?"

Martin nodded and went to his table with the ink and parchment. He snatched up one sheets and held it out for Douglas to look at. On it were math equations, formulas, and other impressive calculations. Douglas studied it, realizing Martin had been trying to come up with an accurate wing speed for the little bird. "This is amazing," said Douglas. "It's not often I meet a monarch who is willing to learn the in-depth dynamics of algebra and trigonometry."

Martin blushed. "Yeah... well... now that you've told me the bird can flap its wings over eighty times a second, I know my calculations are way off."

Douglas couldn't believe the goldmine he had on his hands. He was afraid Martin wouldn't know how to  _write_ , let alone know his basic maths. Even if Martin was not a prince, his intelligence was something people would kill for.

"What's your name?" Martin asked, placing down the parchment.

Douglas nearly hesitated. He didn't want Martin to realize who he was, not yet. There was so much more Douglas wanted to know without his status getting in the way. But from what he could deduce, it sounded as if Martin only knew Douglas' title, not his name. "I'm Douglas, your highness."

"And you're an apprentice to the monks?"

"Technically," said Douglas, mentally fist-pumping. "We have the same level of experience, except I am on their territory, and I must submit to their wishes."

"Oh..."

Martin was clearly fishing for something but was too uncomfortable to ask. He was picking at a loose thread on his shirt, the blush on his cheeks still fresh and bright.

"If I may ask you something, your highness... do you feel these lessons are helping you?"

Martin shook his head. Then he reconsidered it, and said, "I  _am_  learning. My gag reflex is better, and my teeth are not a problem... but... the monks keep telling me I need to stop looking so... miserable. That my partner was not going to like my face."

Douglas wanted to beat those damn monks. Of course Martin was miserable. From what Douglas could gather, all these lessons were about endurance, to give pleasure but never taking it. How was Martin to learn about pleasures of the body if he was too busy treating it like a chore?

"Martin... if I may be so bold, would you welcome advice from me?"

Martin bit his lip. His eyes darted to the bird cage, back to Douglas, then nodded.

"Have you ever been kissed?"

The blush got deeper. "No woman nor man has ever touched me!"

"I'm not asking if you gave your virginity to someone, but have you ever been kissed?"

Martin didn't respond, but the way his eyes drifted down, the way shame and bitterness came across his face gave Douglas his answer. "I see," he said. "May I kiss you, your highness?"

Martin nearly choked. "I-I-I- why?"

"Because I see a fatal flaw in your education. You are constantly being taught to  _give_  pleasure, but to never  _receive_  it. Once you know how it feels, it becomes that much easier to give pleasure, to understand it."

"I don't think the dragon will care if I'm being pleasured."

"Trust me, your highness, he will."

For a moment, Douglas thought he lost Martin. He probably pushed too hard, asked for too much, and Douglas wouldn't blame Martin if he decided to throw Douglas out of his room.

The confidence Martin had drifted away. His shoulders were down, his eyes averted, and in a small shy voice said, "Um... alright. I guess that would be okay..."

He was so cute. Douglas smiled and gently came into Martin's space. Martin blinked, as if he just realized Douglas was at least a head taller than him and had to bend his neck up to look at him. He closed his eyes and stood on his toes to kiss him.

Douglas halted him by the shoulders. "No, your majesty," he said. "Remember, this is about you receiving pleasure. Let me do all the work."

"O-oh..."

Martin kept his eyes closed. He was also trembling in anticipation, his lips fighting the urge to purse. It was actually kind of funny to look at. Smiling fondly, Douglas cupped the sides of Martin's face. He leaned in.

He could feel the heat of Martin's cheeks through his hands. Douglas kissed him gently, giving him little pecks, kissing his top lip then his bottom, trying to draw it out and not overwhelm him at the same time. Once or twice he licked into Martin's mouth, just briefly so Martin wouldn't clamp down on instinct. However, every time Douglas slipped his tongue in, Martin would gasp.

By the time Douglas drew back, Martin was no longer trembling. "I..." he said. "That was..."

"Did you enjoy it? If not, I can stop."

"It was new," he said, sounding embarrassed. "That's all."

Maybe kissing was too much at this point. But Martin didn't say he hated it, so if Douglas gave it some time, Martin would find himself getting drunk on kisses. Douglas had a talented tongue, he just needed an opportunity to use it.

"C'mon," Douglas said, tugging on Martin's hand. "Let's go to the kitchens. I can show how to make that formula."


	4. Chapter 4

Later that night, Martin dreamt of kisses.

He dreamt of soft lips, gentle hands, and teasing tongues. He dreamt of a figure, too fuzzy to tell whom, who held him close, and kissed his lips until he was dizzy. When Martin woke, he felt warm and wanton. Though no one was around to see, he blushed shyly into his pillow, clutching it close to his chest as he tried to replay the dream over and over in his head.

When his bladder demanded he get up, he pushed aside his warm blankets and sat up. The very first thing to greet him was the little bird zipping around happily in its cage.

The prospect of marrying a mythical creature of legend nearly had Martin running for the hills. He had expected to be engaged to a woman, to a man, hell, to even one of the dwarf kings near the mountains. When Martin heard his future spouse was the Dragon of the West, his mouth dropped. His knees nearly dropped too as he begged his father to reconsider.

"Why are you complaining about this?" His father nearly spat. "You have all those dragon paintings in your room!"

Yes.  _Paintings_. And it wasn't exactly the dragons themselves Martin had a passion for, it was their ability to  _fly_. He wanted to know how their wings worked, if their flight patterns were similar to birds or bats. There was a difference between wanting to ride a dragon, and getting ridden  _by_  them.

When he heard the Dragon was going to send Martin a gift for his birthday, he thought it was going to be the severed head of an enemy or perhaps the still beating heart of witch. Instead, he received this bird.

"That's it?" said Caitlin, staring into the cage unimpressed. "I thought dragons were suppose have mountains of gold and this is what he gives you? How stupid!"

The bird was barely the size of his thumb. The colours of the body was a brilliant shiny green, mixed with bright reds and orange. It was like a precious jewel had come to life and was given wings. Martin fell in love with it immediately.

Though he was still hesitant about marrying the dragon, after Martin got this gift, he stopped protesting.

After breakfast Martin had another spouse training. He wondered if Douglas was going to be there. The thought of it sent butterflies in his stomach. So much so he could barely finish his small bowl of porridge.

He went down to the classroom, nearly half-running there, and forced himself to calm and take simple even steps. He didn't want to look eager. But when he got to the classroom and saw only his original teachers, not Douglas, he frowned.

"Good morning, your majesty," said the monks, bowing lightly.

"Good morning," said Martin. He scanned the room. "Is Douglas here today?"

The monks shared a look. It was brief, and Martin couldn't make heads or tails of it. they were frowning, as if they too were wondering where Douglas was. One monk whispered something, too low for Martin to hear. Duncan then said, "He is out on personal business. I do not know when he'll be back."

Oh.

Martin bit the inside of his cheek. He didn't know why he suddenly felt so disappointed. He only knew the man for a few hours.

Duncan and the others didn't let Martin stray too long on thoughts. They told him to strip, then indicated to him to lay on a table sitting in the middle of the room.

Martin did. As often as he was nude in front of these monks, he always felt the urge to cover himself. He resisted and did as the monks said. He laid back on the table, his legs dangling over the side. They told him to lay further up, and Martin readjusted himself. The table wasn't long. His head touched the edge of one end. He tried keeping his legs straight but the edge pressed uncomfortably against the back of his calf. He had to bend his knees to plant his feet on the surface.

Two monks stood on his right. Another at the front of his legs. Duncan stood on his left. "Today's objective: sensitivity training."

At this, they all each pulled out a feather. Long and willowy blue. They shined in the morning light.

"This will heighten your response to touch. Don't come, we don't want to get these feathers wet. Hands over your head, your majesty."

Martin pulled his arms up, his hands gripping the ends of the table. He gulped.

The first brush of a feather went across the underside of his arm, ripping a laugh out of him as he wiggled and squirmed.

" _Don't laugh_ ," Duncan chastised. "Otherwise your partner think you're laughing at  _them_. ...And don't wiggle."

Martin sobered and bit down on his lips. He breathed out and closed his eyes as he saw all four feathers descend upon him.

Immediately there were two on his nipples. Circling, moving slowly, brushing over and over in tiny, tantalizing touches. Sometimes they moved away, to trail across his chest, touching his collar bone, brush across his throat, only to come back to his nipples, teasing them into hard nubs.

The third feather dipped into his belly button, and that's where it stayed. Only the very tip of the feather touched him, right in the middle, as it twisted softly in a clockwise motion. Once or twice it would pull out, and it would trail the skin around his belly button, then dip back inside, the tip turning slowly.

The last feather, Martin thought, would be on his cock. It wasn't. Instead, the feather brushed across his thighs, the insides of his knees, and ghosting across his hip bone. The only time it came near his cock was to touch the underside of his balls and to tickle his perineum.

Martin gripped the table hard, feeling tiny wood splinters digging into the pads of his fingers. "Oh God..."

Then without warning or reason, the feathers abruptly went away.

The sudden loss of touch made him jerk in surprise. His body reached out for it, desperately wondering where it went. His skin tingled sharply, his heart sped up- "Ah, ah, AH-!"

"Don't come!"

Martin shoved a fist into his mouth, biting down hard on his knuckles. Blood spilt into his mouth as tears ran down the side of his face, wetting his ears. The pain was like an echo, far away and weak. It was enough though to keep himself from orgasming.

Once he calmed, he heard Duncan said, "Very good. Let's try again."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> After posting the last chapter, I was like, "Huh, I'm spending too much time on this love story. LET'S GET BACK TO THE SMUT."
> 
> Thus, this chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

Douglas thought he was going to see some action today. And he didn't mean Martin.

The king had come to Douglas earlier that morning with concerns of wizards hiding amongst the border. One wizard was not much of a threat, but according to the king's sources, at least twenty of them were sighted.

Though Douglas knew he was going to miss Martin's lesson today, this was what the king employed him for. This was what Martin was marrying him for.

Also, a fight sounded real good right now. Douglas couldn't even remember the last time he had to breath fire. Setting ablaze a couple of wizards sounded  _great_. He flew out, happy to be in his dragon form for the first time in days.

When he got to the border, he didn't even bother to hide. He landed out in plain view, awaiting for any trap or spell to be thrown at him. He was ready.

Except nobody was there. And for a moment, Douglas thought he was in the wrong place, but no. He spent the next three hours flying about, looking for trouble and unable to find it. He scared a few farmers and a couple of herds of sheep, that was about it. He couldn't even smell a hint of magic out here.

Well, this was a wasted trip.

By the time Douglas got back to the castle, it was already well past lunch. He landed, shifted, and was so irritated about the day he didn't bother to try to hide or dress himself. Those who knew who he was quickly averted their eyes as he walked down the hall. Those who didn't know thought he was drunk. He didn't care what they thought. He was going to give his whole report naked. Maybe next time then the King won't send him on a fool's run based off of half-formed rumours.

Up ahead, Douglas saw Martin walk past. Martin's head turned slight towards Douglas, and he kept walking. A split second later, he quickly backpedaled, mouth opened. "Good Lord, Douglas! What the devil? What happened to you?"

"Um..." Douglas looked down at his naked form, trying to think of a possible excuse. "Mugged."

"And the guards let you in like  _that_? With no explanation and no help?" Martin squealed angrily. "Well, they're going to get a talking from me! Come with me, Douglas, let's get you dressed!"

As bad as Douglas felt for the guards who were now going to face Martin's wrath later on, he was mentally pumping his fist in victory. Martin invited him to his room and all Douglas had to do was show up naked.

"Bring a set of fresh clean clothes in his size to my room," Martin said to a passing maid. The poor woman nearly dropped her armful of fresh bedding when she saw Douglas. "And tea."

Douglas was a little disappointed Martin only seemed surprised by the nakedness. He didn't even bother to glance down at Douglas' genitals. Not once. And the moment Martin closed the door to his room, he quickly went to his bed, stripped it of its blanket and draped it over Douglas' shoulders. "There," Martin declared, stepping back. "I'm actually quite surprised. I have never heard of thieves taking clothes too."

Douglas pulled the blanket closer to him, covering himself fully. "They were upset I didn't have money on me. So they took what they could."

"Those bastards," Martin said, shaking his head. "At least they didn't hurt you."

"Thank you for your concern, your majesty. May I ask you a question? The last time I was here, you hinted a certain air of disdain towards the dragon. ...Do you not wish to marry him?"

Martin was a little taken back by the sudden blunt question. He then squared his shoulders and said, "It's not about what I want. My father decided the marriage."

Fair enough. "But do you hate the dragon?"

"I never even met him," Martin said. "I can't hate him if I never met him."

Douglas pulled back. Martin was being deliberately obtuse, very much the politician he was growing up to be. Douglas could ask him a thousand different questions and Martin would forever keep giving him similar answers. Douglas was too hopeful thinking Martin would open up to him after a day of interaction.

There was a knock at the door and Martin went to open it. The maid was there, holding a tea set in one arm and a set of clothes in the other. Martin took the items from her, thanked her and closed the door again.

Douglas thought the knock was the signal that the conversation was officially over. He took the clothes from Martin and got dressed in silence. He was trying to think up another conversation piece that didn't sound like he was prying. As he donned on the monk's cloak, Martin suddenly added, "The problem is, I don't know what to expect."

Martin wasn't even looking at Douglas. He was busy pouring tea, his movements slow and concentrated while he spoke. "I ask questions and I get vague answers.  _Will I be allowed to continue my studies once I'm married? What should I do if the dragon demands children? If I displease him... is there a chance he might eat me_?"

He turned, tea cups in hand. He gave one to Douglas. "It's pretty obvious the reason why the monks refuse to give me a straight answer is that they don't know themselves. I am upset because my teachers are failing me. I am upset because we have no books in our library that can help. I am getting married in two months and yet I know nothing of my future spouse. I don't even know if he has a  _name_."

Douglas wanted to tell him right then and there who he was. Douglas didn't need words, he could just transform and expose himself. The urge was so strong, he felt his wings already forming on his back, and he had to force himself to calm down. He would have done it too if it weren't for one little thing.

The contract between the King and Douglas were not finished yet. It was silly, Douglas knew, this continue debate on the contract when the wedding was right around the corner. The king was under the impression he could call Douglas at his leisure if he felt the kingdom was under any threat.

Like today, for example. Clearly someone got their information wrong. Douglas certainly didn't want to be called out every other week for one or two wizards. Lord, this was getting overly complicated. Once things were settled between Douglas and the King, Douglas would tell. In the meantime, it was best to keep his identity a secret.

"Then it's a good thing I'm here," Douglas said, pausing dramatically to give his tea a sip. Martin cocked his head in confusion. "In fact, it's one of the reasons why the local monks called me here. I have a great deal of experience with dragons. I can answer any question you might have."

Martin's eyes went wide with awe. Douglas took another sip to hide his smug smile.


	6. Chapter 6

They talked for hours. The conversation didn't stay primarily on dragons. As much as Martin wanted to keep talking about the culture of his future betrothed, Douglas kept bringing up different subjects which Martin found  _fascinating_. They talked about fairies, dwarves, sea monsters, ghosts, goblins, trolls and animal spirits. They talked about legends and myths, rumours and truths, stories and tales. They talked of the far away land the bird was from, and how many more creatures from there were just as unique. They talked about everything.

Martin ended up ordering dinner for the both of them. When Martin's mouth became weary and his voice softer by the hour, Douglas decided it was time to call it a night. He wanted to stay longer. Watching Martin bask in awe over every little new thing Douglas told him about was a pleasure to watch.

"You'll be here tomorrow, won't you?" Martin asked before Douglas slipped out the door.

"Of course I will," Douglas said. "I promise."

Martin smiled, then he leaned up, catching Douglas' mouth in a tired kiss. Martin's lips must be aching at this point. Douglas kissed him back, gently and slowly, careful of Martin's fatigue.

He pulled back, bathing in the sight of Martin's tired but happy expression. Douglas bid him goodnight and went on his way.

 

 

 

 

 

The wedding was over.

The king was demanding too much, and refusing to budge or compromise on his decisions. As much as Douglas wanted Martin, the contract the king was trying to set up between them was favoring himself too much. Douglas cannot be brought into the aspect of war each time the king had a minor confrontation with someone.

So that was it. It was over.

Douglas was disappointed. He was looking forward to this wedding so much. Martin was an intelligent, handsome, wonderful young man. He was going to grow up to be a great ruler one day. It was just a shame Douglas wasn't going to be around to see it.

They were getting along so well too.

Douglas sighed, feeling lost and lonely and he hadn't even left yet. He might as well say goodbye to Martin, give him some story about the monks needing Douglas elsewhere.

He knew Martin was in one of his spouse training classes. Those stupid, useless things. How were a bunch of chaste, virgin men suppose to teach Martin about sex? Douglas wanted to throttle the whole lot of them.

Maybe he should wait till the lesson was over. Talk to Martin in private instead in front of those old bastards.

Then he heard it. In the quietness of the hallway, the noise carried down and barely reached Douglas' ears. Were he human, he would have never heard it. He concentrated and heard the noise again.

Martin was moaning. Loudly.

He wasn't in pain. Whatever he was doing, whatever was  _happening_  to him, he was enjoying it. Greatly.

The moaning continued and Douglas felt a blush bloom across his face. Goodness, up until this point, anything Martin was being subjected to during those silly spouse lessons were treated with eye-rolling. What was happening now, that finally had Martin letting go and enjoy himself?

Douglas swore he was going to wait till after the lesson. But he needed to see.

As Douglas got closer to the lesson room, the more he heard. Between the gasps and moans, there were little swallows of air, of Martin desperately trying to breath. Between those breaths, Douglas heard him shudder and beg. There were no actual words being spoken. His cries of pleasure said volumes.

Once at the door, Douglas stood there for a few seconds longer, listening to these delicious noises. He was never going to hear this again. He might as well enjoy it.

"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah- OH!- hnnnngh..."

Finally, Douglas had enough. He needed to see what was going on. He opened the door.

The scene was a familiar one: Martin, put on display, sitting on a chair in the middle of the room. The monks stood around him, watching him stoically. Nothing was really out of the ordinary and as Douglas walked into the room, getting himself a better look, he saw what was happening. " _What HELL are you doing to him_?"

His yell came out as roar, making the monks jump in response. Two of them ducked, as if expecting a blow, while another stumbled, tripped on his own robes and fell.

Martin lifted his head up, too deep in his own pleasure to respond properly. "Huh?"

On his dick, the guinea fish continued slurping loudly.

Deep in the rivers, lakes and ponds, there was an infamous fish many wives were wary about. In the beginning, when this first was first discovered, it was laughed at because of the way it looked, with it's giant gaping mouth, it's dull eyes, and odd long shape. Because the fish was so silly looking, it was ultimately named guinea after the little rodent.

Then some drunken idiot got the bright idea of sticking his dick into it's mouth.

It wasn't the first time Douglas heard of someone shoving their dick into some random hole. Because the mouth looked like a cross between a vagina and a mouth, Douglas supposed it was only a matter of time before some moron decided to experiment. From repeated accounts passed around at local pubs and in dark alleys, the guinea fish's mouth was extremely pleasurable, and many men sought it out to try it for themselves.

The only problem was, the moment this fish tasted a  _hint_  of semen, it clamped down with teeth. Many have only escaped with scars. Others have lost their entire penis. The fish has been banned from many places but occasionally a man would go to the local physician, red in the face, complaining of great pain in the genitals.

And now that same  _fucking fish_  was on Martin. " _Get that off of him_ ," Douglas commanded darkly.

Monk Duncan held up a hand. "His highness needs to learn-"

Douglas elbowed past him. The others had enough sense to scramble out of his way. Douglas stomped up to Martin, placed on hand on his thigh, grabbed the end of the guinea fish and pulled.

The guinea fish slid off of him with a loud, sucking slurp. Martin cried out, his hips jaunting upwards in an unconscious motion.

Douglas flung the fish back, hitting Monk Duncan square in the face.

Douglas ripped off the cloak from around his shoulders, threw it on top of Martin, bent down, and lifted him up from the chair in one swift move. Martin gave a little squeak of surprise. He clutched onto Douglas for dear life.

The monks were either too stunned or too stupid to try to stop them as they left the room. Douglas was glad none of them did. He was too angry to keep himself reigned in. If any of them had dared to touch him or Martin, he probably would have set them on fire.

Douglas didn't stop, not for a second, navigating the halls, taking the most direct route back to Martin's private chambers. Once inside, he kicked the door shut and slid the lock in place.

Then he didn't move. He stared at the door, glaring at it as if daring it to open. Part of him wanted to kick it down.

"Douglas?" Martin asked meekly. "Are you okay?"

"Did they tell what that fish was?"

"I..." Martin swallowed. "They told me a few details. I was to tell them if I was... close and they planned to pull it off before then. I thought this was another endurance lesson."

"ENDURANCE?" Douglas roared. "You're a virgin! You could have easily pre-ejaculated!"

"Yes, so?"

He didn't know. Those damn monks were going to risk Martin's manhood -for what? A fucking endurance test? Now Douglas really was going to set those bastards on fire.

Then after they roasted for a few good minutes, Douglas was going to eat them.

He was so busy fantasizing about their painful inevitable deaths that he didn't notice Martin biting his lip, staring up at him, contemplating. So when Martin decided to lean up and kiss him, Douglas nearly dropped him in surprise.

Douglas pulled back. "What? What are you-?"

"Am I heavy?" Martin asked.

Martin could weigh another three hundred pounds and Douglas would never break a sweat. "No, of course not-"

"Then pull me closer and kiss me." Martin leaned up, wrapping his arms around Douglas' neck, pulling him down to capture his mouth again.

Obliging but confused, Douglas kissed back, shifting Martin in his arms to accommodate him. "I have to put you down, you're going to get a cramp like this."

Martin merely mouthed at Douglas' neck in response.

Douglas crossed the room, to the bed, and had to bend low to set Martin down. Martin refused to let go, his hands digging into Douglas' shirt, forcing him to follow down. Douglas threw out his hands on the bed to keep from toppling on top. "Why are you-?"

"You  _interrupted_  me," Martin breathed in frustration. His hand scrambled at the cloak Douglas put around him, pulling it off to reveal his nakedness underneath. His erection never faltered, full and red, still damp from the fish's mouth. "Finish what you started, Douglas."

"I-"

"Do I have to  _command you_?"

Martin didn't wait to get an answer and kissed Douglas again, moaning into his mouth.

The rational part of Douglas was telling him to pull back, ask what was going on, if Martin really wanted this and not because he was too sexually frustrated to think straight.

The other part of Douglas was already sliding a hand down Martin's naked torso, across his stomach, down to his genitals. He grasped Martin's dick, squeezing it gently, smiling when Martin groaned.

"I can't believe you almost lost this," Douglas said as he began to move his hand.

"Wait, wait, I could have lost  _what_?"

"Shhhh..."

Douglas knew he should pull back  _now_. The contract was not fulfilled, the agreement was broken, the marriage was cancelled. Technically Douglas shouldn't even be in the kingdom anymore. He should have left hours ago.

"Please," Martin said, squirming in Douglas' hand. "You're the only one... god, being with the others made me feel... I was thinking about  _you_  the entire time that thing was on me."

"You're mine," Douglas declared, moving his hand even faster. It didn't matter if the contract was finalized or not. He was not going to leave without Martin. "Think about me all you want."

"Oh, oh-!"

When Martin finally came, Douglas only gave him a minute of reprieve before starting up again. He was going to mark Martin. Taste him, touch him, swallow every gasp and feel every shudder. Forget the fucking contract. Dragons made promises through sweat and blood. Martin was his and only his, and if those damn monks dare to put their hands on Martin again Douglas was going to kill them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: For mild gore and not-so-happy ending.

Martin was exhausted. In the morning he was going to really feel it, all the bruises, the love bites and tense muscles. Underneath it all though, he was going to feel satisfied and loved. He was going to smile and blush at the memory. Perhaps he'll get hard, wanting to feel Douglas' touch again.

Douglas could see it all too clearly. It was going to be a shame he wasn't going to be here to witness it first hand. "Martin," he cooed, gently coaxing Martin awake.

"Hmmm...?" Martin shifted sleepily. He moved closer to bury his face in Douglas' chest.

"I need to leave. But I'll be back in a few hours."

"... Mmmm where are you going...?"

"There's a few things I need to do. I'll be back for you."

Douglas wasn't sure if Martin even heard that. Martin made an acknowledged noise and drifted back to sleep. He didn't stir when Douglas finally pulled away from him, bringing up the blankets to keep him warm.

Douglas then walked out to the balcony. The sun wasn't expected to rise for another two hours. In the dark distance, the flickering lights of lamps were burning down, ready to be extinguished. A few sleepy guards walked the perimeter of the castle, checking over the stone edges for any odd movements or noises.

Douglas stepped up onto the balcony ledge. He took one last glance back at Martin, who was unconsciously reaching out for the warm spot. Douglas smiled, and turned back. He bent his legs, shoved himself off, twisting as he fell. His wings spread out, his form changed and he flew off into the early morning sky, ignoring the gasps of those who saw him fly. The day had not started yet and there was much to do.

 

 

 

 

Frankly Douglas would be very surprised if the King decided he was not going to chop Douglas' head off with a rusty, dull axe. Maybe,  _maybe_  the king would be forgiving of Douglas for stealing kisses, passing touches, but taking Martin's virginity? That was a crime punishable by death in some places.

And doing it right after the King had nullified the marriage agreement between them was a terrible insult. It would have been kinder if Douglas had simply urinated into the King's morning cup of tea.

Douglas knew he had to make this better. It didn't matter if he and Martin were not married under church and God, by dragon's standards, Martin was his the moment the boy had accepted Douglas' kisses.

It took four hours for Douglas to fly back to his caves. Once he landed he didn't waste any time. He went straight to his treasure rooms, grabbed one of the largest trunks he owned and started to shovel in as much gold as it could hold. He tossed in coins, rubies, emeralds, diamonds, sapphires, silver, copper, yards of silk, meteorite, swords forged by dwarves, daggers forged by elves, crowns, scepters, rings, and even a few bags full of frankincense. The filled trunk was probably worth ten times over than Martin's own dowry, but Douglas was not going to take any chances.

Douglas picked up the trunk and the poor thing creaked under the weight of all the gold. It was not going to hold for very long and Douglas tucked it under one arm, positioning it so if it broke, not every piece of gold was going to fly.

"Get the caves ready," Douglas said to one of the work elves. "I am bringing home my spouse today." And with that, he took off, clutching the trunk protectively back towards Martin's kingdom.

 

 

 

 

By the time Douglas got back, it was shortly after lunch. Douglas didn't bother with the formalities with the guards, he didn't bother announcing his presence in any sort of way. He stormed right into the castle, holding the trunk openly in one large, clawed hand.

The King, unhappy and scowling deeply, made no effort to greet him. It was fine, Douglas was going to let the gold do the talking. Douglas flung the trunk, letting it fall in the space between them, and it shattered into a million pieces on impact, sprinkling gold and precious jewels everywhere.

The King did not even flinch. "What is this?"

"An exchange. This gold for Martin."

"You think this gold is to compensate for taking my son's only bargaining chip? No one in a hundred miles will want his sullied flesh now!"

"No one will touch him," Douglas growled. "By the law of my ancestors, the law granted to us by the Gods who reigned over us in volcanos and sky, Martin is my spouse. I have only given you this gold to help ease your pain, but it does not matter if you accept it or not. Martin is coming with me today and you will not stop me."

The King narrowed his eyes at Douglas in confusion. "You would have Martin... though our salt peter mines will be banned from your use?"

"Yes."

"Were you intending this this whole time?"

"No," said Douglas, allowing a certain amount of guilt into his voice. Taking Martin under this guise and from behind the back of the King was something Douglas had never intended. He'd meant to honour the failed contract and leave this kingdom be, but... "I only came to this decision yesterday night."

The King considered this. He stared at the scattered gold, his eyes dashing over the cascade colours of precious jewels. His gaze was not greedy, merely thoughtful. He then kicked a diamond, a rather large fist sized one, across the floor. Douglas thought that was a bad sign.

"You should have come to me first," the King finally said. "I thought you took my son's virginity as a final act of cruel mirth. If I had known you were planning to have him always I wouldn't have reacted so angrily."

"Angrily?" Douglas repeated. " _What did you do?_ "

"Martin is in his room, recovering."

Douglas' eyes grew wide at the implication. Without waiting to hear what the King meant, Douglas turned, shifted, and ran for Martin's room, uncaring of his nakedness. In his haste he shoved a few poor servants out of the way who had stopped to gape at him.

As he ran down the hall towards Martin's chambers, he saw a maid walk out with a bowl. The bowl was filled with blood-coloured water. The maid went to the closest window and dumped it out.

Douglas ignored this maid's gasp at him, and ran right through the open door. Inside, there were a few others maids milling about, poking the embers in the fireplace, washing bandages, and grinding medicinal herbs in a bowl. The bird cage that had once housed Martin's precious birthday gift was empty. The bird was nowhere to be seen.

Martin himself was on the bed, laying on his chest, his arms stretched out over his head. His eyes were closed but his face was contorted in great pain. Douglas came close. He hissed.

Martin's back had been  _shredded_. Long, angry, bloody lines ran from shoulders to lower back, digging deep. The maid who tended to him, a woman of great age, did not flinch at the gory sight or at Douglas' exposed genitals. She continued to gently clean the wounds, patting them down with a damp cloth. When the cloth was stained red, she would swirl it in a bowl, wringing out the blood.

"The King had him whipped," the old woman said, gesturing to another to take away the sullied blood water. "When he learned the Prince had given away his virginity to another before marriage."

Douglas felt sick. "I was coming back for him."

"You should have taken him with you."

"I did not have gold. If I'd taken him, it would have looked like kidnapping-"

"Save you excuses for another, I do not wish to hear them." The old woman stepped back, and immediately, the other maids placed down their equipment and started to file out of the room. "The Prince is no longer my responsibility. He is yours. I just hope he is willing to forgive you."

"Wait," Douglas said before she left. He pointed to the empty bird cage. "Where is the bird?"

"The King set it free. The hawks got to it within two minutes."

They left, nobody bothering to take their equipment with them. They left the medicinal herbs, the unused bandages, the bowls filled with either clean water or sullied water, and the scarlet coloured rags. The whole room smelled of blood.

Martin took short, quick breaths, as if he were hyperventilating. Sweat ran down in droplets on his skin, and when Douglas placed a gentle hand on his shoulder, away from the slashes, the flesh was burning. Martin was suffering from a fever.

"Martin," Douglas said softly. "Can you hear me?"

Martin's eyes opened, heavy and weary. He struggled to focus his sight on Douglas, to register his presence. "Douglas..." he breathed. "You came back."

He didn't sound relieved or surprise. His tone was flat, tired, like he was still waking up from a deep sleep.

Douglas was just relieved Martin was coherent enough to speak. "Of course I did. I am never leaving you again. You're coming home with me, today."

"Okay..." Martin said, sighing. He hissed when the movement stretched the skin. "But I don't think... I can move just yet."

"Don't worry, I'll take the pain away."

Douglas raised his left hand, hovering it right above Martin's back.

He brought up his right, and it shuddered as it transformed from human to  _dragon_. Dark, green scales replaced skin, his five fingers melted together, shifting into three, and his fingernails elongated, turning into sharp, pointed, thick claws.

He then dug one claw deep into the palm of his human hand, twisting it slightly. Blood oozed out like a slow trickle of water, dripping it on top of Martin's wounds.

As the pain melted away, Martin sighed in relief. It didn't erase the pain completely, Douglas knew, but at least Martin could breath a little easier. After Douglas covered as much as he could, he pulled back, and closed the open wound on his hand.

He gathered the clean bandages left on the table and wrapped Martin's back as best as he could. Centuries ago Douglas had considered studying human medicine for educational purposes. He didn't, thinking such knowledge would be useless. He now wished he did. Once he got Martin back to his caves, he would get the elves to patch him up.

"My... bird... get it please..." Martin said worryingly, pointing towards the open cage. Did he remember his father releasing it?

"It's gone, love."

Martin dropped his hand. A small sob echoed weakly out of his mouth.

There was going to be much to answer for. The lies, the deception, how Douglas' actions resulted in Martin's punishment and the death of his precious bird. Maybe the old woman was right, Martin may not forgive him. For better or for worse, they were now stuck together.

"Douglas..." Martin's voice hitched, burying his face into Douglas' shoulder. "Take me home."

"Yes," Douglas said. He planted a soft kiss on top of Martin's head. "Yes, of course."


End file.
